My sons’ interest in their lower regions and the substances that emanate from there has reached a bewildering pitch recently. Earlier this week my older son got out of the bath and started acting out a skit which might have been titled: ‘In Conversation with my Bum’. It was basically a two-hander, with his bottom performing like a ventriloquist’s dummy with its voice booming out in a preposterous baritone. Mainly the bum discussed with its owner how much they loved their mum.
Obviously I couldn’t help admire the ingenuity of the show, a sort of alternative to alternative comedy. But at the same time didn’t want to be seen to encourage it. So I offered the mildest, most tender rebuke I could and moved on, sniggering silently to myself.
On Saturday I took the boys to a model village in Berkshire. It’s quite an amazing place, a handful of 1930s towns and villages recreated in loving miniature. It’s very wholesome and at the end of the trip my older son wholesomely declared that he was going to build his own model village. Innocently I asked him where. “Up my bum” was the reply.
It appears that my younger son is being drawn in to these shenanigans, watching on in joy as his brother launched into what could only be described as a naked revue, busting some hand-on-hips glam-rock dance moves. At this point it was impossible to resist their delight and we melted into rich fortifying laughter.
I know that the lavatorial humour is normal at this age. In fact it sustains children up through whoopee cushions and stink bombs, continuing to scrawled penises on school textbooks, and culminating in some unfortunate cases in a love for Mrs Brown’s Boys. Even now I can appreciate a well-seasoned knob gag. And in the signing book at my own wedding, someone scribbled the word ‘minge’.
But I also worry that my boys will go to school and be the one that takes it too far. Maybe the bum-ventriloquism will cross a line with some schoolmates and they’ll end up being the child with an empty peg either side of their kit bag. So I did some research online on the kind of boundaries that we should be setting at this stage.
There didn’t seem to be much consensus but I did come across one incident in which a couple were invited to school to be informed that their son was bothering other pupils by sniffing their bums. In fairness to him he had probably had his own bum sniffed frequently in his early years so was simply repeating the trick.
Either way, the fact that the teachers stepped in to intervene makes me think that perhaps I’ll leave the boundary-establishing to them and keep on sniggering.